


“We’re not best friends anymore, why can’t you see that?!”

by duchessio



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ;))))))))), Angst, Friends to Lovers, I don't know how to tag characters but yeah these are like the "biggest ones" I suppose, M/M, No Smut because I can't write it, Quidditch, Slow Burn, Swearing, because im a bitch, but also fluff, but maybe eventually they kiss, ish, lots of swearing yeah, which means they def do :o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26876116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duchessio/pseuds/duchessio
Summary: Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood are polar opposites. Sworn rivals by different colours on their ties and their tendencies to say foul things towards the other on the Quidditch pitch, they are the perfect enemies. If one didn’t know the two, you’d be sure to believe the boys hated each other’s guts, but if you actually had the pleasure of having made their acquaintance, you knew that Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint were best friends, and no stupid fights, tie colour or profanities exchanged on the Quidditch pitch would change that.Alt.Marcus and Oliver has been best friends since childhood, and then romantic stuff ensues in a slow burn kind of way.
Relationships: Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood
Comments: 34
Kudos: 102





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @generaltomatoheart (on Tumblr) for being the best BETA ever <3

Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood are polar opposites. Sworn rivals by different colours on their ties and their tendencies to say foul things towards the other on the Quidditch pitch, they are the perfect enemies. They take every opportunity that arises to start a fight, sometimes loudly enough for everyone else to hear, other times in private. Anything can be turned into an argument, practice times, game strategies, whether or not Flitwick is a goblin or not… absolutely everything. If one didn’t know the two, you’d be sure to believe the boys hated each other’s guts, but if you actually had the pleasure of having made their acquaintance, you knew that Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint were best friends, and no stupid fights, tie colour or profanities exchanged on the Quidditch pitch would change that. 

Oliver had initially been crushed when he and Marcus were sorted into different Hogwarts houses, but Marcus had seen it as a good thing. (“C’mon Ollie, now we both can be captains of our house teams!”). Oliver had still not been too keen on the idea, despite Marcus’s comforting words, but eventually he’d learned to appreciate it. He understood that he had a stupid hero-complex that made him belong amongst his fellow Gryffindors, and equally understood how Marcus’s cunning and deceiving nature made a perfect fit for Slytherin. 

Despite being sorted into separate houses, Marcus and Oliver made a point to always eat breakfast and dinner together. Breakfast at the Gryffindor table (due to none of Marcus’ Slytherin peers being morning people) where Percy Weasley often joined them. Weasley would read them the latest prophet, whilst Oliver and Marcus only half listened, too occupied with discussing something Quidditch related. Marcus has never been overly keen on Percy, but has always figured that he could tolerate the chap for Oliver. After all, Oliver has always tolerated his friends every evening over dinner.

At first, the arrangement was frowned upon by Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, most giving them snide looks, Terence Higgs even going as far as calling Marcus a “traitor”. Albeit doing so whilst fake coughing like the coward he was, but Marcus had heard, and Higgs had eaten his words up. Turns out messing with Marcus Flint was something one should actually avoid if one wanted to dodge a black eye. After that incident, everyone left them alone. 

Marcus and Oliver, as expected, both made their respective Quidditch teams. Oliver as a keeper, and Marcus as a chaser. All their practice as youngsters had really paid off, something they both loved boosting about every now and then whilst pestering their schoolmates about Quidditch. They’d celebrated their spots on the teams by doing the only logical thing - sneaking out past curfew for a midnight flight. Over the years they’ve both spent at Hogwarts, both boys have become notorious for their craft of sneaking out past curfew. Right then, when they were merely twelve, clumsy and stupid, both have admitted that not getting caught had been short of a miracle.

They’d flown around the Quidditch pitch a couple of times, chasing one another and laughing a little too loudly for two people who were out of bed after hours. Flying through the hoops, competing on who could speed closest to the ground without tumbling to a steady death. The phrase “I bet I can go faster than you.” Was a commonly used one, and favoured between the pair. What’s life without some friendly competition? And with them, well everything just had to be a competition.  _ Everything _ . 

Eventually they’d seized their flying and sat on the same ground they’d previously been above. Marcus had thrown some grass at Oliver that he’d managed to pull out of the ground, and Oliver had responded by hitting the other boy on the arm. Not hard enough to hurt him, but with enough force to cause a reaction from him. A habit in which the boys would keep up for many years to come. 

So there they sat. Talking through the late night and early morning about anything and everything that crossed their twelve year old minds. Once the sun started rising they had to sneak back into the castle before Hooch came out for her morning check up, and the pair spent the rest of the day snoozing through their classes from the lack of sleep the previous night.

If you were to ask Oliver about that evening years later, he’d tell you it was one of his favourite memories of his time at Hogwarts. That was the day he’d made the Quidditch team, the day he’d gotten to celebrate with his best friend. An opportunity to stay out late and fly through the night. It was truly, the perfect moment. If the same question was inquired upon Marcus, he’d first tell you to piss off and mind your own business, but eventually, if pestered properly, would confess to you that this night was not a happy memory for him, because it was the evening that he realised that him and Oliver Wood were no longer best friends. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second fic published on ao3, let's go! This fic is finished and is going through a lovely editing phase, so fear not. It will not be left incomplete. I'm not sure when Chapter 1 will be published, but hopefully soon :)  
> Until then, I hope you enjoyed this little prologue.
> 
> Take care and stay safe!  
> // @duchessio


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my BETA @generaltomatoheart (on Tumblr) <3<3<3

“Oi, I thought I told you to wait for me outside the Prefect bathroom you twat!” Oliver sat down reaching for a chicken wing to put on his plate. 

“It’s not my fault you’re too slow.” Marcus grunted. 

“Someone’s in a foul mood,” Oliver remarked as he kept shovelling food onto his plate. “Is something the matter?”

“I don’t know Ollie, you tell me!” Oliver thought for a second, trying to figure out what was burdening his friend so much. 

“Oh please,” Oliver rolled his eyes, “You can’t seriously tell me you’re still mad about that.” 

“Mad about what?” Adrian Pucey said, sitting down on Marcus’ right side.

“The fact that he couldn’t get in a single shot today.” Terence Higgs chimed in, appearing on Oliver’s left side a moment later, snickering as he too sat down at the dinner table. 

At least once a week, Marcus and Oliver would play a one-on-one game of Quidditch consisting of only a quaffle and Oliver’s keeper skills. Usually it was a fair game, Marcus making decent shots and Oliver making decent saves, but this particular day, Marcus hadn’t made a single goal. Terence, from lack of entertainment and as an excuse to not do homework, had witnessed the whole scene unfold and was now hellbent on wrenching everything out of the situation. He’d long stopped being afraid of Marcus’ punches (sort of). 

Marcus kept his head down, eating his food in silence. He was not going to give Higgs the satisfaction of getting to him. Contrary to what Terence had said, Marcus wasn’t actually that mad about not making any shots, although he wasn’t thrilled about it either. It was the perfect cover story though for what was really bothering him. Earlier that day he’d been told by Professor McGonagall that it looked like he would fail transfiguration if he didn’t step up and improve his work. Usually Marcus couldn’t care less, but he knew that flunking out meant repeating a year, and failing transfiguration after already struggling through his other subjects was a big blow considering he hadn’t failed anything else yet. Not making any goals today was truly the salt in the wounds. 

“Flint?” he got a light kick from under the table by whom he knew was Oliver, forcing him to leave his own thoughts. When he looked up he met Oliver’s eyes, and the other boy was smiling at him, calming his nerves. Oliver always seemed to have that effect on him, and was the sole possessor of such a trait. He gave a little nod back, just quick enough for Oliver to see so that his friend would know that he was all right. 

***

“So are you going to tell me what’s really bothering you, or am I going to have to steal some veritaserum from Snape?” Dinner was over, and Oliver and Marcus had found their way to the Quidditch pitch. It was usually empty at this time, allowing for privacy. They normally went there after dinner, sometimes to study, other times to do absolutely nothing of value. Today was one of the latter, just a day where they sat and talked nonsense. 

Marcus hadn’t wanted to come, determined to head back to his own dorm and wallow in self pity, but Oliver had pulled him aside whilst exiting the great hall and told him they were going to the Quidditch pitch. He didn’t ask Marcus if he wanted to, nor did he demand him to come. Oliver simply stated it, and Marcus was inclined to follow. There was an unwritten rule between them when it came to this, so without protest he followed the other boy in silence down the steps of the courtyard to the Quidditch pitch, where Oliver threw himself onto the ground with a thud. 

“Nothings wrong.”

“Oh please, I get that you wouldn’t want to bring it up with Higgs and Pucey on your heel, but they’re not here anymore, so spill!” This was a demand. 

“Really Ollie, it’s nothing.” To this Oliver arched his eyebrow in a disbelieving stare that said he wouldn’t quit nagging until he was granted a response. “I’m flunking transfiguration.” Marcus admitted quietly. 

“What was that?”

“I’m flunking transfiguration! There, happy?” 

“Ah yes, I love to hear that you’ve failed.” Marcus looked up to see Oliver grinning back at him, leaving him all warm inside. A feeling he’d come to know very well due to the pending crush that had been brewing inside of him since he was twelve. “We’ll study.” Oliver simply said. “I’ll ask Percy to help ya, the guy’s already ahead with his homework anyways, it’s not like he’s busy.” 

“I’m not sure Weasley would agree with that.” This made Oliver laugh lightly, and Marcus felt himself melting. He loved when Oliver laughed. He threw some grass Oliver’s way, just like he always did, and as a response Oliver hit him lightly on the arm per routine. 

“We’ll study.” Oliver said again. “Ok? We’ve got this” Marcus couldn’t help but love that Oliver had said  _ we’ve  _ instead of  _ you’ve _ . The two boys might be rivals in most senses, especially when it comes to Quidditch, but at the end of the day they’re a team. One entity. They’re both as stubborn as they come, and refuse to call the other by their first name on the Quidditch pitch, despite having known each other since before their Hogwarts days. Oliver naggs at Marcus all the time to get him to execute the simplest task, and Marcus always finds a way to complain about absolutely anything he can lay his eyes on. The boys are polar opposites. Yet,  _ they fit together perfectly. _

***

“This is right about the most boring thing I’ve ever done in my life! Can’t we do something else?” Marcus complained, throwing a paper at Weasley’s head in an act of boredom and protest. He got a glare back that probably could kill if provoked, and Percy groaned for the millionth time that day.

“For the last time Marcus. Stop throwing papers at my head! If you spent as much effort on trying to study for transfiguration as you did on folding papers to throw my way I’m sure you’d be a top student. As for now, OPEN YOUR DAMN BOOK!” Percy Weasley was not afraid of Marcus Flint. Not anymore at least. The prefect was very good at charms and could therefore probably hex Marcus out of existence if the chaser tried anything on him. Madam Pince gave off a great hiss at the sound. Percy gave off a sniff as he recovered, straightening his robes and switching position in the process. 

They’d been sitting in the library studying, or rather Percy attempting to, and Marcus procrastinating, for about an hour. Oliver was occupied with Quidditch practice, and Marcus was feeling murderous tendencies. He wasn’t very fond of Weasley, although time had made him respect the boy enough to be able to stay alone in a room with him for more than five minutes. Marcus would never admit it, but he was rather grateful that Percy had agreed to help him out, which is why it sucked that he found himself not listening to a word that was being said. Percy opened a book, pointed at a picture that demonstrated something, and blabbed about  _ something, something.. Spells _ . Marcus’ brain was zoning out, and without warning it stuck on an image of a slightly shorter brown haired boy. 

_ Oliver smiling and laughing at his jokes. Resting his head on Oliver’s legs, as the keeper would play with his hair, causing Marcus to positively melt. Oliver with an overused copy of Quidditch Through The Ages that he’ll read any chance he gets. All engulfed in the pages as the world around him kept spinning. His eyes burning with passion- _

“Marcus!” Percy said sternly. The boy had always refused to call Marcus by his surname, despite several threats. “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” He could tell the Gryffindor was pissed. “Look. if you’re not going to take this seriously, then I am not even going to waste my time-”

“For god's sakes Weasley, can you chill? Can’t a guy disappear in his own thoughts for even five minutes.

“Try an hour. What the hell would someone like you even need to think about over the course of an hour. Feels like sixty minutes of nothingness.” 

“For your information, my brain happens to be filled with important thoughts.”

“I hardly consider thinking about Oliver for an hour to be “important” thoughts.” As those words were spoken both boys froze. Marcus stunned, and Percy shocked by his own bluntness. 

“How… Why…” There were no words to be found, nothing to be said. What could he say to that without exposing himself? Normally Marcus would start using his fists at a comment like that, but he knew that beating Percy up wasn’t an option. Oliver would be furious. Instead his mind went into overdrive trying to figure out the other contexts Percy could be referring to that weren’t in any way related to romantic feelings. Maybe he thought Marcus thought about Oliver in a Quidditch sense, thinking about strategies to beat the Gryffindor team. Or perhaps he just said it as a joke. After all, Oliver was Marcus’ best friend. It wasn’t weird to think about your best friend, in fact, some may even consider it normal. 

“So, chapter 3…” And Percy continued to ramble.As if Marcus hadn’t already had a hard time concentrating, this was another cosmic joke sent straight from hell. He knew Percy understood that he wasn’t listening, but the red-haired boy plowed on, pretending like nothing. Marcus couldn’t determine if he was glad that Weasley had changed subject as fast as the speed of light, or if he was more frustrated. He wasn’t sure of just how much Percy actually knew of his feelings for their shared best friend, and that thought alone was unsettling. 

***

“How did studying with Percy go?” Oliver asked, swooping in next to Marcus’s left side at the Slytherin table. “Judging by the fact that there are no bruises on your hands I can only assume that no one has died yet, and I don’t know about you Markie, but I consider that an absolute win!” Marcus would’ve growled if Oliver’s beaming smile wasn’t so damn cute.

“How come that’s always your first assumption of events when Weasley and I spend time together? Also, don’t call me that, you know I hate that stupid nickname” Marcus said.

“Because he has more than three brain cells,  _ Markie _ ” Higgs teased, earning a laugh from both Pucey and Oliver. Marcus noted that he was always five seconds away from smacking Higgs. 

“Naw, don’t be mad Marcus,” Oliver teased, rubbing his best friend on the shoulder in a(n un)comforting way, “He’s just teasing. I know you have at least four functioning brain cells.” 

“Don’t look so sad Flint, we know the rest died of a worthy cause. Quidditch ain’t something to play with. I’m sure a lot of Oliver’s soldiers have gone in a similar fashion.” Pucey chimed in. 

“They have indeed,” the keeper said, knocking himself on his skull, “All for a worthy cause.” 

“You’re such a dork.” Oliver stuck out his tongue. 

“Don’t be such a twat Flint, you know we’re only joking with ya.” Higgs spoke, but Marcus had stopped listening. He was too busy staring at Oliver's lips to pay his other friends much attention. 

Pucey and Higgs soon stopped paying attention to Marcus as well, as they busied themselves with their own conversation about potions, or charms, or whatever the hell they were discussing. Marcus didn’t know, and quite frankly, he didn’t much care either. Oliver kept staring at him, as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t. Marcus looked deep into his best friend's eyes, searching for whatever thought was running through the keeper's mind, and found that he came up empty. How come Oliver could read Marcus' thoughts so easily, but not the other way around? That was just plain unfair.

He couldn’t shake this irking feeling that was creeping up his spine. A thought that was always at the forefront of his mind, but that he tried to turn off. The feeling of genuine affection he had for his friend that he knew would never be reciprocated. It was all becoming way too much for him to handle. 

“Pitch.” Marcus said without thinking. Oliver just nodded. No other words needed to be said. 

***

“So what’s up?” Oliver asked, sitting down next to Marcus on the grass of the Quidditch pitch. Marcus searched his mind for something to say but found he was in a loss for words. “I don’t know.” he admitted. “I just needed some pitch time.” he said leaning his head on Wood’s legs and groaned as he did so. “Life is just so shite sometimes, ya know?” Oliver didn’t answer him, just played with Marcus’ hair and allowed his friend the opportunity to vent. Marcus was too upset to be excited by Oliver’s touch, which was yet another blow to the evening. “Ollie, I’m going to flunk out of school.” Marcus wasn’t sure why he’d chosen this angle, but he went with it. After all, it was probably true.

“Don’t be dramatic Marcus, I’m sure studying with Percy went alright.”

“No,” Marcus insisted, sitting up straight with a swift motion, “it was shite, and Weasley will testify. I’m a complete and utter failure!”  _ Who does not deserve you,  _ he wanted to add, but quickly swallowed. 

It was true. He knew it was. That was the real reason he couldn’t fancy Oliver. Because he knew that the other boy deserved better. More. Someone who wasn’t Marcus Bloody Flint, aggressive arsehole and a professional pain in the arse. Well that and the fact that Oliver probably didn’t fancy him back, but he preferred to not think about that. He’d much rather look at it as a sacrifice than a rejection. 

“You’re not any of those things. Honestly Flint, you’re one of the most talented chasers I’ve ever played. You’re  _ way  _ better than me at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and… you’re my best friend. Which ultimately makes you cooler by default.”

Marcus was about to argue that being good at Defense Against the Dark Arts just showed how rotten his family was, when he felt himself unwillingly smile instead. Just a tiny one that was hardly visible, but it was there nevertheless. Yet another thing that belonged to Oliver only, Marcus’ smile. It was rare he ever did it with anyone else. Oliver noticed and smiled back. 

“We’ve got this, remember? I’m not gonna let you flunk out of school you idiot. Who will I play against when I go pro?”

“You are aware that there are a lot of talented Quidditch players in the league, right? I’m sure they’d give you a run for your money.”

“True,” Oliver said thoughtfully, “but I’d much prefer that you were among them.” And suddenly Marcus’ smile was growing. Fuck, he was whipped. 

“Fine, you’ve convinced me.” Marcus groaned as Oliver gave out a celebratory whoop, acting like he’d won a Quidditch game rather than a half-arsed argument. “I shall try not to flunk out.”

“That is all I ask.” The look on Oliver’s face could compete with the sun. 

“Besides, I think my parents would like it better this way. Can’t let Christopher be the golden boy forever.” Marcus joked. “Who am I kidding? He’ll always be their golden boy.” He added as an afterthought. 

Christopher was Marcus' older brother, and his mother's favourite of her three children. His dad favoured his younger sister Anabelle, who’d since coming to Hogwarts had dissociated herself from her older brother, pretending he didn’t exist. No bad blood or anything, that’s just how it was. Marcus on the other hand would never be his parents' favourite, but it had never bothered him as it probably should. Since finding out he liked guys, it was almost a relief that he’d never have to let his parents down with this information. Him being a failure was so ingrained in their minds, that something like this was small in comparison. 

“You can be  _ my _ golden boy.” Oliver broke his way into his thoughts. “The goldiest.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a word.”

“Then I’m making it one.” He declared proudly. “Marcus Flint, you are the goldiest boy that has ever been.” Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What does that even mean?” 

“I don’t know,” The keeper admitted. “Whatever you want it to.”  _ For you to love me back. _

“For you to learn proper English.” Marcus teased, Oliver putting out his tongue as a response. 

“Ollie.” Marcus said after a while. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re the goldiest of goldies.”

“Now who’s making up words?” Oliver challenged, a grin on his face.

“Piss off Wood.” He threw some grass Oliver’s way as the keeper laughingly hit him playfully on the arm.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took some time, but here we go: Chapter 1!!! Only 4 Chapters + An Epilogue to go :)))
> 
> Until next time,  
> Duchessio


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my BETA @generaltomatoheart (on Tumblr) <3

The first Quidditch match of the year was drawing near. Slytherin would be going up against Gryffindor on the pitch, and Marcus saw less and less of Oliver outside the great hall because of the intense training schedules. He knew Oliver was pushing his players to the max, and Marcus had every intention to do the same to his own team. Wood was known for his overcomplicated game strategies, but Marcus too had tricks up his sleeves. They hadn’t won the housecup two years in a row now for nothing. Those gits for teammates of his were not getting out of it despite their constant complaints. 

He really, really wanted to win the Quidditch cup. It wasn’t enough that they’d won the two previous years, he wanted one last bang before leaving Hogwarts, and he knew Oliver did as well. Deep down, beneath the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, Marcus wanted to see Oliver win too. Wanted to see Oliver’s face light up as he was handed the trophy. Realistically this was not possible, because he couldn’t have it both ways, and perhaps his want to win was a bit stronger than his will to see the Gryffindors take home the cup. He was all for Gryffindor beating out Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, they could have that, but when it came to the Slytherin team… well, Oliver could suck it. 

Marcus made it down to the pitch before everyone else, hoping he’d get some extra laps in before having to deal with the headache that was the Slytherin Quidditch team. He shouldn’t have been surprised to find Oliver there. Especially not so close to their first game of the year.

“Oi, stop spying on our practice time” Oliver landed next to him smoothly.

“Don’t flatter yourself Flint. Nothing worth stealing anyways.” 

“Is that why we’ve won the cup for the last two years and not you?”

“Oh, it’s like that?” Wood arched a playful eyebrow. “My seeker’s gone AWOL two years in a row. I’d hardly claim you’ve won on pure talent over sheer dumb luck.” Marcus was about to retort when his fellow teammates started ascending onto the pitch. So much for extra laps. He must have miscalculated the time. 

“Stop flirting, Flint. Send “lover boy” over here off so we can start practice.” Pucey bemused, causing Marcus’ cheeks to burn hot. Oliver did not react to Adrian's words, instead he shrugged it off, after all, he was used to it. Adrian was notorious for running his mouth. Eventually everyone learned to pay it no mind. Oliver left with a quick “See you at dinner” towards Marcus, as the chaser glared daggers at Pucey.

“Alright team,” Marcus said after collecting himself, using his captain's voice. Harsh, loud and filled with authority. He made a mental note to deal with Adrian later. “We’re going to start with doing laps, at least 50 each-” He stopped right in his tracks as his eyes landed on Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin teams seeker. He took hardly no time to recover before immediately reacting. “Malfoy. What. Happened?” he said through gritted teeth, referring to the fact that his seeker only seemed to have one functioning arm at the moment. 

“I hurt myself in class,” Malfoy shrugged, seemingly unbothered, “nothing too bad.” 

There was only one thing on Marcus' mind. “Will you be able to play?” 

“Yeah, Madame Pomfrey said it was nothing, really.” Malfoy said in a tired tone, as Marcus sighed in relief before he continued. 

“Good, so,” Marcus started again, before he was once again interrupted. 

“Unless it has to be.” Marcus looked up to see who had disrupted him, landing this time, on Higgs.

“Higgs, this is a private practice. Either sit on the stands, or get fucking lost!” Higgs seemed unfazed by the harsh edge to Marcus’ words.

“What do you mean with ‘unless it has to be’?” Montague asked, directing all his attention to Terence, ignoring his captain. 

“Well,” he started, making sure to flash Marcus the most heinous grin indicating that he’d won. All attention on him now. “Weather hasn’t been so good lately, that’s all.” Which was true, there’d been a lot of rain as of late, leaving no one keen on the prospect of playing in it. 

“Huh?” Bole said after a moment's silence, Derrick scratching his head as if thinking really hard. It was common knowledge that the pair were two halves of a whole idiot, and the state of them was rather laughable. Despite this, Marcus had to agree. Huh?

Higgs looked around expectantly, and when it didn’t seem to click for anyone except Pucey, who always had the ability to read Terence’s mind, he finally elaborated. “Malfoy’s arm you idiots! It’s like a get out of Azkaban free card. Use it!” 

Marcus had finally caught on and was liking the idea, even if it did come from Higgs, and he hated admitting when the fucker was right. He was almost a little pissed he hadn’t thought of the plan himself. Pucey nodded approvingly, Montague high-fiving Bole (who’d finally caught on) like they’d already won the Quidditch cup. They were celebrating something that had not yet happened, and the worst part was that Marcus wanted to join in. It was a foolproof plan. He was so busy being happy about it that he completely forgot something that suddenly came crashing down on him:  _ Oliver _ . 

The keeper would murder him. This would be a betrayal. Worming themselves out of a match the Gryffindors still had to face, throwing another team under the bus. To be perfectly honest, he actually didn’t much care about the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Yes, he’d rather see them win over others, but his team came first. One thing he couldn’t deny though, was that he did care about Oliver. Undeterred by this, he could not let that stop him. The well-being of his team and their shot at the Quidditch cup came first, and if this was a way for them to secure a victory, then hell, he was going to take it. 

***

Despite the fact that Marcus approved of Terence’s plan, he still forced him off the pitch, and made his team do laps. Everyone except, to Marcus’ dismay, Malfoy. (“What if someone sees he can fly? Then no one would believe he’s actually hurt!” Higgs had argued). The team had left the pitch sore but more pleased than ever, and Marcus and Malfoy broke away from the herd to inform Snape of the “unfortunate” circumstances that had come up. Luckily, there was no need for effort in convincing their professor. He’d just asked Malfoy to move his arm a bit, and when the kid had fake moaned in pain, Snape had seemed satisfied enough. Marcus was sure their head of house saw through the act, but perhaps he too really wanted them to win, and therefore decided to overlook the obvious cop out. 

He joined his fellow Slytherins for dinner, Pucey and Higgs chatting animatedly about something with Oliver, who beamed when he came nearer. “Good practice?” That joyous feeling of victory from before quickly vanished from sight when he saw Oliver’s face. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Adrian said in his place, Wood retaliating by throwing a napkin on Pucey’s face, causing Higgs to snicker. Marcus sat himself down next to the keeper, as not to look directly at him. 

“You alright?” Oliver had stopped paying attention to Pucey and Higgs, who now were wrapped up in throwing napkins at each other, and Marcus felt his heart sink in his chest. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.” Oliver’s attempt at a joke lingered in the air awkwardly as Marcus was unable to speak. That settled the matter.

***

Wood had dragged him with such force down to the pitch after dinner that Marcus hardly had time to complain. He probably couldn’t have even if he wanted to, seeing as his words were stuck in his throat, refusing to surface. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“S’nothing” he managed to mumble out.

“Bullshit, tell me now before I hex it out of you.”

“I’d love to see you try.” More mumbling. Marcus was known to be better at hexing than Oliver, and it amused him greatly that Oliver had threatened to do him in, when they both knew Marcus could probably take him. This fact also made it depressing that Marcus was close to flunking out whilst Oliver was actually doing quite well. He blamed it on Weasley. 

“Marcus.” Oliver wasn’t angry, but he was stern and serious. The keeper had perfected his way of telling someone he was disappointed in them with just the right tone in his voice, something that was required of him after dealing with the Weasley twins for such a long time. Marcus knew there was no way to avoid telling him what had happened during practice, figured his friend would probably prefer to hear it from him, and decided to just rip the bandaid off. 

“So you meant to tell me that we are not playing you in our upcoming game?” Marcus shook his head, seeing the light disappear from the keepers eyes. “But that’s bollocks.” Oliver continued, his voice rising in anger.

“Malfoy is hurt.” Marcus said simply, avoiding Oliver’s eyes as he spoke. They had no power over him as long as he didn’t look directly at them. 

“So?!” Oliver shrieked. “You can’t have someone else play? I’m sure Higgs can get off his lazy arse for one game!” Marcus had expected Oliver’s reaction, and stood still as his best friend continued to glare at him with accusatory eyes as if it was Marcus’ fault that Malfoy had hurt himself in the first place.

“Nah, Higgs loves to see us suffer.” It amazed him how easily the words were escaping now.

“Except you’re not.” Oliver’s voice broke at the last word. 

“Sorry?”

“You’re not suffering. You lose nothing. We’re the ones who are suffering Flint!” Marcus had known Oliver for what felt like an eternity, and he could never quite remember a time he’d ever seen Oliver this frustrated, not even when Puddlemere lost in the final that one time. It was unsettling to say the least. 

“Ollie-” Marcus tried, speaking softer than he normally would. 

“Forget it.” And like that, Oliver had turned and started heading up towards the castle. Marcus hung back, acknowledging that Wood needed space. Hell, if it was the other way around Marcus knew he’d need it too. 

***

The next morning as Marcus sat down with Oliver and Weasley for breakfast, their conversation died down, leaving a tense silence in its place. 

“Morning.” He tried to no avail, as the two Gryffindors stayed quiet. Weasley was reading the prophet as usual, paying Marcus little to no attention, which was what he’d normally prefer. Oliver on the other hand, was peculiarly quiet. He knew this was for the other day. Wood clearly needed more space. So Marcus granted it. He kept quiet as they ate. 

Eventually Weasley folded his paper, and started getting up. “Marcus, I’m expecting you in the library during our long break today to continue with your transfiguration studies. Oliver, I’ll see you in class.” He didn’t wait for a reply before scurrying off with purpose. Weasley always walked around with purpose. It annoyed Marcus into another lifetime. Not long after the redheads departure Oliver got up and headed out of the great hall. Marcus shoved what was left of his toast in his mouth before scurrying after the keeper. 

“Ollie. Oliver!” Marcus shouted after him. People from all houses stared as Marcus hurried after the Gryffindor boy, who’d by now picked up his pace. “Wood!” No response. Marcus was running now to keep up. He scattered his brain for the solution, and finally, it hit him. “Pitch! Now!” Oliver stopped right in his tracks, as did Marcus. The onlookers held their breaths waiting to see what would happen. Marcus knew Wood would follow, so he turned away and started walking towards the pitch. If there was one thing that was holy in their friendship, it was this.

“What?” Wood asked a couple of minutes later, as they stood on the pitch. Both aware that they were skipping class. Something that probably wasn’t helping Marcus' case.

“Why’re you ignoring me?” Wood scoffed at the question, and Marcus felt stupid for even asking. “I mean, well, I know. But… well…”

“Is that all, or?” Oliver’s patience was running low, and he was ready to leave at any moment. 

“Get over yourself you twat, you think you can just walk around not talking to me because one of my players got injured?” He tried to reason, even though he knew that if the roles were reversed he probably would have been doing the same thing. That’s the thing though, the roles never would be reversed, because Oliver would never pull a stunt like this. 

“I spoke to Potter, Flint. He told me it’s all bullshit!” 

“Potter doesn’t know shit!” Marcus tried to defend, but Oliver was not listening and Marcus definitely understood why. 

“I really thought we could have one year, where you didn’t try to weasel your way to the Quidditch cup, but no! Your lot needs to cheat your way to everything!” 

“Your lot?” All sympathy quickly vanished. “ _ Your  _ lot?” He repeated, practically fuming. His temperament betrayed him as per usual. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh please, as if you don’t know! Ever since my first Quidditch game here, Slytherin has been playing nothing but dirty. With you as their captain, I’d dare say it’s even worse.”

“Oh really now? What about your lot? A house filled with people with stupid herocomplexes who think themselves superior because the headmaster just happens to have been in their house and because you’ve got Potter, a half arse celebrity to flaunt. You’re so sure everyone loves you, when really, everyone just puts up with you because they’ve decided they hate us more. At least in Slytherin, we’re aware no one likes us.” 

“Then why are you wasting your time. No ones forcing you to spend time with the stupid heroxcomplex Gryffindor who thinks himself superior. You’re the one who came after me, remember? You chased me down.” 

“Because you’re  _ my  _ stupid Gryffindor.” He really didn’t mean to say it like that, but it was the truth. Marcus despised most of the Gryffindors, and all that they stood for on top of that. He did not, though, hate Oliver Wood. Despite his Gryffindor esque, rather because of it. All the reasons Wood was a Gryffindor, were reasons Marcus liked him, which made absolutely no sense, but what could he do? “Gosh Wood. Yeah, you’re someone who gets off on helping people, and true, sometimes it’s messed up, but… you’re my best friend, remember? I can accept that you’re a stupid Gryffindor as long as you can accept that I’m a stupid Slytherin.” 

Marcus’ words had left them in silence, a brash contrast to their previous shouting. It was Oliver who finally broke it. “A really, really stupid Slytherin.” There was no malice to his words.

“Yeah, the dumbest of the lot.”

“I don’t know man, Crabbe and Goyle could probably give you a run for your money.” Marcus caught Oliver’s eyes. The keeper was grinning now.

“Wow, someone finds themselves clever.” 

“It’s because I am.”

“Yeah, sure you are.” Oliver hit him lightly on the arm, and Marcus was positively melting. Everything was going to be alright. 

“Git.” Oliver said fondly. “I’m still pissed,” he noted. “But I guess I don’t have to give you the silent treatment forever.” Marcus let out a heavy sigh. Sure, Wood was probably still going to be pissed for a while, and rightfully so, but in that moment, Marcus knew it would pass. This fight was not the end of their friendship. He let Oliver pull him in for a hug, and he found himself memorizing every single detail. It dawned on him that he’d probably fuck up so badly some day, that a confrontation down by the pitch couldn’t save them. And then he wouldn’t be able to touch anymore. He loved to touch, to feel, to have Wood as close to him as possible without raising any suspicion. He needed to take it all in, just in case he ever were to lose him. 

Not in case he lost him…  _ when _ he lost him. A shiver ran through his entire body as Wood let him go, telling him they should probably get to class. As he made his descent from the pitch he made a promise to himself that this wouldn’t be the last time. He wasn’t ready for that yet. He never would be. 

***

Marcus had scarcely avoided detention for being late to class. Luckily it was potions, and Snape had a tendency to overlook misbehaviour when it came to the Slytherins. He’d barely managed to do the class assignment, and had left class gloomy as per usual. Lunch came and went, and he was reminded that he was supposed to meet Percy in the library to study. He dragged himself over there, and found Percy alone at a table with a stern expression.

“You’re late.”

“M’not” he said simply, plunking onto a chair next to the redhead. Percy didn’t respond to this. He just stared at Marcus like he was trying to read him. It made Marcus extremely uncomfortable. Like he was being observed. Some lab rat for Percy to analyze. He didn’t like being analysed.

“I couldn’t help but notice how Oliver was late to class today.” He said finally, testing the waters. 

“Yeah, so?” It came out more defensively than he’d intended. 

“You made up then?” Marcus didn’t answer. He just stared straight ahead. 

“I’m not here to talk about Ollie, I’m here to not flunk transfiguration.”

“Of course, but you see-“

“Look here Weasley, you and I” he motioned between them with his hand. “We’re not friends. I merely tolerate your existence because Ollie likes you. It’s cool or whatever that you’re helping me with transfigurations and all, but beyond that we don’t talk. So stop trying to weasel out “information” about stuff that frankly, is none of your damn business. Understood?” It always amazed Marcus how easily he’d lose his temper. He really needed to work on that.

Percy nodded and opened his transfiguration book. The Head Boy clearly knew something Marcus didn’t. Maybe that’s why he’d wanted to investigate. Marcus had meant it though, he didn’t want to be Percy’s project. Whatever was going on between him and Oliver was between the two of them, anyone else could piss off.

***

Oliver wasn’t at dinner. He overheard some Gryffindors say the keeper had landed himself in detention after being late to class. Marcus felt a little guilty, knowing it was partially, if not all his fault. He sat with Higgs and Pucey like normal, feeling like the third wheel he absolutely was. 

“Cheer up Flint,” Adrian said after a while, “your lover will return soon.” Marcus was reminded about practice the other day and how he still needed to handle Adrian.

“He is not my lover. Stop saying stuff like that.” He tried to sound as threatening as he could muster. “What you said the other day down at the pitch was not cool man. Cut it out.” 

“What’s this Ade, is poor Markie blushing?” Terence was sporting his usual shit eating grin. Marcus knew he wasn’t blushing. He was not the blushing type. He proceeded to redirect his glare to Higgs instead. 

“Piss off.” The other boys laughed.

“Chill Flint, we’re only fucking with you. We know you and Wood aren’t ‘lovers’.”

“No, for that to happen you’d actually have to remove the stick up your arse and confess your feelings to him.” Terence grin grew wider and sly, Adrian snickered, and Marcus was about to kill them both. He’d known he had it in him since the first time Terence opened his stupid mouth. Yet another reason why Marcus was a shit wizard. He’d rather resort to violence using his fists rather than his wand. 

He threw his fork down on his plate and got up to leave. 

“Cmon Flint,” he heard Adrian shout after him. “We were only joking.”

Marcus did not look back. He headed straight to the dungeons. How was it that everyone seemed to know about his crush on Wood? First Weasley, now Higgs and Pucey. Was it really that obvious? If it was, did Wood know and just didn’t bring it up? 

He’d always thought of himself as good at hiding his feelings, but apparently that was not the case, as half the bloody castle seemed to know about them. He kept walking gloomily. The common room was left empty at this hour due to everyone being at dinner. The only ones there were a group of first year girls giggling in a corner, and, to Marcus dismay, Malfoy, loungin on a couch. 

“Where’s Winkus and Dinkus?” Marcus asked, sitting down on the couch opposite him. 

“Dinner.” Malfoy answered, eyes closed as he massaged the brink of his nose. 

“Why aren’t you with them?”

“I have a terrible headache.”

“It’s pronounced Pucey and Higgs.” Marcus didn’t care enough about Malfoy to continue talking after that, instead he closed his own eyes and leaned his head on the headrest. 

“Why’re  _ you  _ here?” Malfoy said after a while. “Shouldn’t you be with Wood or something?” This put some motion in him.

“What’d you say?”

“What?” Malfoy said, opening his eyes, and sitting up now as well. “Sensitive subject is it?” The little shit had the audacity to sound sly. “Calm down Flint, he’s your mate isn’t he?” Marcus relaxed at these words. Of course Oliver was his mate. His  _ best  _ mate. It wasn’t weird for Malfoy to ask him about that, so why had he reacted the way he did? Why was mere association with the Gryffindor keeper a threat. It’d never been something that bothered him before. 

“I’m heading to bed.” 

“Don’t let me keep you.” The younger boy had already returned to his lying position.

It was too early for him to actually be tired, so there he laid under his covers, overthinking instead of sleeping. How many knew he had a crush on Wood? Weasley clearly could tell. Marcus supposed that wasn’t the end of the world, he knew the Head Boy had some sense in him. Sure he hexed better than Marcus, but when really aggravated Marcus’ fists spoke volumes. Higgs and Pucey though, they were the real threat. If only they could keep their big mouths shut for once. As for Malfoy, well, it was still unclear if he knew or not. There was always the possibility that he didn’t, Malfoy wasn’t known for being the most observant person there is. It did leave the chaser with a bad feeling though. People knew now, and that really changed everything.

His brain shifted. Wood. Too good for him. He tried not to go down those paths considering he knew Oliver would disagree, but there was no denying it. Oliver had a future, a bright one playing professional Quidditch for Puddlemere United or some other team he’d easily get into because he actually was a decent enough player with the right drive to get him to the top. Marcus on the other hand was doomed to a life in misery. He just knew it. He lacked Slytherin ambition, he was on the verge of flunking out of the majority of his classes. It would be a miracle if he didn’t flunk out completely. His parents were openly disappointed in him, and who could blame them? Their son was a complete and utter failure. There was no other way to put it. So yes, Oliver was in every aspect, too good for Marcus. And still, he was his friend. A damn good friend. Someone who’d stood by Marcus’ side despite everything he’d done. Through every punch, temper tantrum, mistake. There’d been lots of mistakes. 

Maybe Oliver Wood was too good for Marcus Flint. But perhaps that was a good thing. Oliver was ambitious, hard-working. He fought for everything he set his mind to, especially when it came to Quidditch. And Marcus, well Marcus wasn’t like that. Sure, in Quidditch he most certainly was, which granted, was a joy for both him and Oliver, because at least that made the games interesting. As for everywhere else, Marcus was a bit of a slacker. And he supposes that’s what balanced out the friendship. He never had to compete with Wood outside of the Quidditch pitch, and maybe that’s why they were able to be friends. So maybe, just maybe, Oliver Wood being too good for him was actually a good thing. 

Or maybe, just maybe… it sucked. Because Wood being too good for him made his feelings for him unfair. It wasn’t right that he’d get someone like Oliver, and if the keeper ever were to reciprocate his feelings, Marcus would have to find a way to live with the knowledge that he’d played a part in holding Oliver back from getting everything he deserved. Which was a hell of a lot more than Marcus could ever offer. So yeah… maybe Oliver being too good for him actually really, really sucked. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only took me a hundred years, but here's chapter 2. I hope all my editing will have made it bearable. Now excuse me while I go and never look at this chapter ever again, and embark on the terrible journey of editing the remaining chapters, and finally write the epilogue :)
> 
> Until then.   
> Stay safe and have a good one,  
> @duchessio


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to my BETA @generaltomatoheart (on Tumblr) <3<3<3

Gryffindor is playing Hufflepuff and Marcus can’t look. Partially because of the terrible weather, and even more so because his stomach is churning from guilt. It is an unfamiliar feeling, but not a foreign one. It’s painful to watch Wood struggle, to think that it should’ve been them in the match, and not the Puffs. That he could’ve been going through all of this with him instead of watching helplessly from the sidelines. Sure, a part of him was glad to not be playing because he didn’t actually wanna freeze his arse off, but the other part knew what a dick move it had been to milk Malfoy’s injury the way they had. 

He’d hardly seen Wood throughout the week apart from meals because of the training schedule Wood had harassed his teammates with. He’d been forced to spend more time with Higgs and Pucey as a result, and had come to the realisation that there was a reason he avoided alone time with the pair. Spending time alone with Higgs and Pucey was like having a jigsaw puzzle infront of you with no idea what you were trying to make. Nothing they said quite made sense to anyone but themselves, unless they wanted Marcus to get it, which he understood rather quickly that they rarely did. 

He’d also had another lesson with Weasley, which had not opened up for any more discussions about Oliver, thank goodness, or anything else concerning Marcus’ personal life. He’d shown up, done the spell, and gotten the fuck out of there. A part of him assumed Weasley didn’t bring the subject up because he was afraid that Marcus would use his fists to silence him, and that thought was comforting to the chaser. At least part of his life was under his control. Something he realised was a much smaller chunk of himself than he previously thought.

His hands felt like they were about to come off at any second. He cupped them around his mouth, breathing warm air into them, but it was a feeble attempt to keep himself from getting hypothermia. It stung, heat against cold piercing his skin. It did keep him focused though, allowing him to concentrate on something other than the fact that he was a terrible friend. He put all his attention on his breathing. In and out. Inhale, exhale. Soon the game would be over, and he could go inside. This whole ordeal would just be a bad memory in which he and Oliver could laugh about later on. Potter almost always caught the snitch, it was just a matter of time before he would do it again. 

Except, Potter didn’t catch the snitch. Potter fell, and every single person in the bleachers lost their ability to breath for a second there. Diggory had the snitch, and he was beaming, or at least it looked like he was, until he very clearly wasn’t. Gryffindor lost, but Hufflepuff had no opportunity to enjoy their victory because suddenly everyone seemed hyper fixated on Potter. Everyone except, Oliver Wood. 

***

He found him in the showers, looking as though he was trying to drown himself. It would’ve been comical any other day, but right now Marcus couldn’t bring himself to laugh. The rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team had gone. Left was the mess that was Oliver Wood after losing a Quidditch game. A sight in which Marcus had bared witness to many times before, which admittedly, always made him upset. He didn’t like seeing Oliver sad.

“Ollie.” He said softly behind the keeper, trying extremely hard to approach his friend with as much compassion as he could. “Oliver.”

His friend did not turn around, he kept his head down, letting the water rinse the shame and disappointment of the loss away. “Ollie.” He tried again. This time Oliver did turn, and Marcus braced himself for a scolding. Anything. But alas, nothing.

Marcus took the opportunity to get a good look at the boy in front of him. The sight was extremely unpleasant. Oliver looked completely empty inside. As if a part of him had died on that pitch, and Marcus officially decided that maybe, just maybe, they needed to cool it with their Quidditch obsession. Perhaps they should stop getting offended when people claimed they took the game too seriously and accept that they might actually be right.

“Oliver, are you ok?” What a stupid fucking question to ask someone who looked like they’d been hit by a bus. Marcus cringed at his own words. “Cmon Ollie, it’s just a game, there’ll be other matches. There’s still Ravenclaw and Slytherin left.” And this was just the wrong thing to say, because suddenly Oliver was glaring daggers into his soul. 

“Then why couldn’t you play?” He snapped, causing Marcus to jump. Something he’d later deny. 

“I’ve told you already, Malfoy is hurt.” 

“BUT IT'S JUST A GAME FLINT! ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU JUST SAID? SO WHY COULDN’T YOU PLAY?” Oliver’s voice was echoing through the changing room.

“Ollie-“

“Don’t fucking ‘Ollie’ me. First you go and fuck up my entire strategy, and then after we loose, you waltz in here and act like everythings ok. It’s not ok Marcus. I’m pissed off, and you’re going to have to let me be pissed the fuck off, ok? So please, just, leave me alone to grieve.” 

Maybe if Marcus was a better friend, he would’ve stayed where he was. Stood his ground. But he wasn’t, because he left. He’d always known that their friendship was going to end, just not when it would strike. Leaving Oliver behind, pissed and disappointed, felt defining. As if the universe was screaming at him that this was it. That was the last straw. 

Sure, this wasn’t the first time Oliver had been pissed after losing a game, but this was the first time Marcus walked away from it as the culprit. Not as the guy who beat him in the game on equal footing, but the guy who’d stabbed him in the back and left him to bleed. And perhaps that was a step too far. Enough for him to make the most rash decision in his life.

Oliver Wood was no longer his best friend, and he hadn’t been since they were twelve and made the Quidditch team. They weren’t just naive second years anymore, and it was time to stop pretending. Wood was a Gryffindor and he was a Slytherin. They weren’t even supposed to slightly tolerate each other, and here they were, pretending to be best chums for years. Marcus was done. It’s the least he could do for Oliver. The keeper deserved better than friends who made him try to drown himself in the shower. So Marcus closed the door on that. Shut off all of his feelings and promised himself that no matter what happened, he no longer existed in Oliver Wood’s life. As far as he was concerned, they were strangers. 

That’s the way it should have always been. 

***

The next morning, Marcus did something he hadn’t done since his first year. He headed for the Slytherin table. He sat down opposite Pucey and Higgs who were slouching all over the place (Marcus was beginning to understand why they’d arranged to eat breakfast by the Gryffindors). As soon as his ass hit the seat Pucey suddenly stirred awake, a puzzled expression on his face.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Eating breakfast.” Marcus grunted, gesturing to the toast in his hand. “That’s usually what one does in the morning.”

“No you twat,” Higgs spat, him too catching on to what was happening, “he’s wondering why you’re not sitting with Wood.”

Marcus had been expecting the question, staying up late the night before to figure out something convincing to get his fellow Slytherins off his back. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, unlike Wood, I am not a Gryffindor, hence, I can’t eat with them.”

“That wasn’t a problem when you punched me in our first year.” Higgs argued, but Marcus had stopped listening. 

He didn’t see the look Adrian and Terence shared, the knowing look. He did though, feel like he was being observed. As if they were trying to read him, just like Weasley sometimes did.

“Stop glaring at me.” He snapped at them, to no avail, for Adrian and Terence had by now become immune from fright when Marcus yelled at them. He looked directly at them now, and he was greeted by something that he’d never have expected in a million years. The pair looked… disappointed? He knew that look well, his father wore it a lot throughout his childhood, he’d learnt to expect it, but from Higgs and Pucey… well that was just plain weird. 

He had no time to ponder before a knock was felt upon his shoulder. 

“WHAT-“ He turned swiftly. He really wasn’t a morning person. His voice stuck in his throat. Behind him stood the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, his sworn rival, his former friend and newly branded stranger… Oliver Wood. He looked way better today, as if yesterday had never happened. It was weird, Wood had that ability. One night and he’d conducted a whole new plan to take him to the top. He didn’t need people like Marcus in his life to drag him down. He’d be better off without him.

“Would you care to explain why you’re eating breakfast at the Slytherin table this fine morning?” 

“If you haven’t noticed,  _ Wood, _ ” he made sure to put empathis on the last name, “I’m a Slytherin, and this is usually where we eat.”

“Cut the crap Flint.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Pitch.” Wood said simply, looking satisfied. Like he’d won. 

But he hadn’t. “No.” The words slipped out before Marcus had any chance to catch them, surprising even himself as they left him. No? Had he really just said that? Sure, he was a stubborn prick, but this was on a whole other level. 

Oliver gave an audible gasp. Higgs and Pucey looked scandalised. Anyone who wasn’t looking before, was now glaring, holding their breath awaiting what would come next. 

“What was that?”

“You deaf or something Wood? I said no. N-O.” At this, Marcus stood, made sure he got all up in Oliver’s business. If he was to get rid of Wood, he would do so with style. “What? You think you can just command me like some sort of servant?” Marcus swallowed hard. This really was the nail in the coffin. Everything sacred about their friendship was crumbling before them in this moment, but Oliver was refusing to back down. Oliver never backed down.

“Marcus, PITCH. NOW!” 

“I said NO.” And here he shoved him.  _ Hard _ . They’d never physically hurt each other in any other way than on the Quidditch pitch, not intentionally at least. When his hands touched Wood though it felt like they were burning. It was a strange feeling, a terrible one for sure, but also a thrilling one. He wanted to touch  _ more _ . He shoved again, causing Oliver to wobble. This time Oliver was snapped out of his shock and shoved him back. Marcus was steady, but not steady enough to not almost stumble straight onto the Slytherin table. 

That really did it. Marcus practically threw himself at Oliver, throwing punches left and right. Oliver returned every single hit as ferociously as he received. People around them were going absolutely ballistic. The Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams both cheered on their Captains. Percy Weasley tried desperately to create calm as newcomers to the hall scurried over to get a glimpse at the scene. Over by the teachers table, it had become impossible to ignore the stirr. 

“Mr. Wood, Mr. Flint. That is quite enough.” Professor McGongall was quickly at the scene breaking the two apart with some help from Pucey and Higgs who she’d ordered to assist. Marcus giving Adrian a real struggle. “20 points from Gryffindor and Slytherin respectively as well as detention for both of you. Every evening this week!” She finished with a bite.

As they were pulled apart, Marcus saw the damage he’d caused Wood’s face. He felt slightly ashamed, but also partially satisfied. He didn’t particularly enjoy inflicting pain on Wood, but he did sort of take pleasure in leaving his mark, no matter how fucked up that may be. Very fucked up. Like he was making sure that everyone knew he’d once held a claim to Oliver. That the keeper had once been  _ his  _ best friend. 

Marcus also felt sad. Because marking Oliver up the way he had, meant letting go. He had lost his claim, dispatched of it himself last night when he left Oliver alone to drown. Oliver Wood wasn’t  _ his _ . He’d never been  _ his,  _ and he never would be. 

“But professor” Oliver tried to argue, not even looking Marcus’ way. “What about Quidditch practice?!”

“There’ll be plenty of time for Quidditch preparations  _ after _ you accept responsibility for your actions! I expect both of you outside my office at eight o’clock this evening, do not be late!” She said sternly before marching off. 

***

The word of the fight spread quickly. By lunchtime every single Hogwarts student seemed to have their own insane version of the happenings. Marcus overheard a third year Hufflepuff telling her friend group that Marcus had broken Oliver’s arm, as well as a fourth year Ravenclaw telling his girlfriend how Oliver had stunned Marcus into a coma. The shock on his face when he saw Marcus pass him in the corridor was priceless. 

Marcus was supposed to meet Weasley in the library for another tutoring session, but chose to play hookie. The best part about cutting off his friendship with Oliver was never being forced to hang out with Weasley ever again. 

The dungeons were cold as he entered, finding Higgs and Pucey propped up on one of the couches. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the library with Weasley right about now?” Was the first words Pucey said as Marcus threw himself down on the couch opposite theirs. Marcus was about to ask him how the hell they knew about that, before remembering that Pucey and Higgs were known walking migraines in his life who knew everything about him, even when he didn’t provide them with any information.

“Aren’t you supposed to have learnt by now to mind your own fucking business?” Marcus mumbled back, head in a pillow. 

“Don’t be such a wanker. By the way, what the fuck was that stupid stunt during breakfast? Why’re you ignoring Wood?”

“Can you just get off my dick Puce?” Marcus snapped back. “Could you do that? Get out of my business and mind your own for  _ once _ ?” People around them were staring their way at Marcus’ voice rise, and the chaser made sure to catch their stares with a hard look to put them on edge and look away. 

“Don’t talk to him like that.” Higgs interjected calmly. “It’s not his fault you’re a massive prick who can’t handle his feelings.” It took every ounce in his body not to punch the life out of both of them, but he’d already landed himself in detention for the rest of the week, any more and he would seriously damage practice time. Marcus was a strange wizard in the way he’d rather use his fists to handle conflicts instead of his wand. His father had always made sure to tell him as much. 

“Whatever, just fuck off.” He said in defeat, leaving the pair behind to go sulk in bed.

***

Turns out ditching Weasley earlier had been a massive mistake. He’d gone to dinner as usual, figuring eating before his detention was a good idea. Oliver had not come to sit down by their table, in fact, he’d not seen him since the morning incident, which was probably for the best. Weasley on the other hand was quickly at Marcus’ side as soon as he’d sat down. 

“Where were you today?” One thing about Percy Weasley, he never got angry. Never yelled or screamed. Instead, he spoke loudly. He spoke with authority that he believed his Head Boy Badge provided. He wasn’t angry, he was disappointed, and he pointedly made that clear in the way he explained himself to you as if you were three. Marcus disliked him greatly, perhaps because Weasley was a git, or perhaps because he was extremely jealous of Percy’s relationship with Oliver. Something he never talked about with anyone, not even Oliver, because Marcus was prone to acting like he had no feelings at all. 

“We had a thing today? Must have completely slipped my mind.” He tried playing it off.

“Utter lies. Look, Flint, if you want to fail transfiguration, be my guest. Just don’t waste my time in the process.” Marcus wanted to tell him to keep his voice down, but Weasley was already on his way. “Tomorrow, Library. Same time as always. Don’t be late.” 

“What was that all about?” Bole asked, sitting down by Marcus. 

“It was nothing, just Weasley being Wealsey.” Marcus' favourite part about Bole? He believed it. 

***

The time was approaching eight, and dread clambered Marcus’ insides. Every muscle in his body clenched at the thought of seeing Oliver again after this morning. He didn’t want to see the damage he’d caused. The consequences of his big mouth and harsh course of action. Yesterday he’d been adamant on avoiding Wood as much as possible, yet now he would be forced to spend every evening this week with him. Way to go Marcus! 

Marcus arrived right on time. Oliver was already there, leaning on the wall next to the office door. He was sporting a black eye and a swollen cheek, but when he saw Marcus he was smiling. “Hurts like a bitch Flint. Always underestimated how painful your punches actually are. Should probably apologise to Higgs.” Was he kidding? Marcus had been an utter arse to him all day, and now he was here, smiling and joking with him. He wanted to tell Oliver that he too had left quite the impressionable mark, the bruise on his stomach speaking volumes, but that would completely derail from the fact that he was cutting off contact with Wood. So instead of responding he said nothing as he knocked on the door to McGonagall's office. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a hot sec, but here we go! Chapter 3. Only 2 chapters and an epilogue left!!! 
> 
> Until then, stay safe and have a good one,  
> Duchessio


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my BETA's @generaltomatoheart & @scooby-dumb (on Tumblr) <3 <3 <3

_ Detention 1, 20:00, Trophy Room _

Marcus and Oliver were assigned to polish awards in the trophy room for their first detention. Why they were put in the same detention, despite their big blowout earlier that day that had landed them there in the first place, was beyond anyone. Hogwarts was Hogwarts after all. They sat on opposite ends of the room, holding each other at a distance. Filch had been ordered by McGonagall to keep an eye on them, much to everyone’s dismay. He occupied a desk between the pair, petting Mrs Norris whilst mumbling nonsense. 

Marcus could feel Oliver glaring at his side, but he paid him no mind. He pretended like he didn’t notice as he instead focused on the very interesting award he was polishing, granted to… “Tom Riddle”, whoever that was.  _ Probably a massive wanker. Every award winning wizard had a tendency to be a real douche. _ He vanished in his work. Put his concentration into a certain spot that needed extra polishing. He could not see Oliver. He was focusing, remembering…

  
  


_ It was a yearly tradition for the Flint family to spend their summers in Scotland. They own an old family estate there to which they would travel, located in a tiny wizarding community, with only a few muggle houses scattered in their surroundings. Way less than most places. They called it a “holiday”, when in actuality, it was an excuse for Marcus’ dad to be rid of his children for a couple of months every year. His mother was very compliant to her husband's demands, and spent the summer there with her kids.  _

_ Marcus is eight, and much in his life makes no sense. He is forced to take French and Latin, because old pureblood families force their kids to learn such things to become proper heirs someday. Him and his siblings have a tutor who teaches them necessary stuff, such as reading and writing, as well as proper etiquette and pureblood propaganda.  _

_ He isn’t unhappy with his life, but he isn’t pleased either. He is just existing and following along with the directions thrown his way, doing so poorly. His French is abysmal, almost as bad as his reading in Latin. He is far from a proper gentleman, unlike his older brother Christopher who was just naturally superior in every way when it came to these things. Fluent in French, Latin and even some German. Thirteen, starting his third year at Hogwarts, in which he has been excelling so far: a great asset to Slytherin house. Marcus' parents loved to make an example out of him whenever Marcus stepped out of line, never afraid to pull the phrase “Christopher would never do that!” out of their sleeves.  _

_ Marcus also has a younger sister, Anabelle, who is six years old and the only child he is sure his father actually loves. Or at the very least tolerates the most. She isn’t perfect by any means, but that doesn’t stop their father from treating her as such. Whilst praise towards Christopher was often used as an example for Marcus to follow, praise towards Anabelle always seemed genuine. It frightened Marcus to think his father actually had a heart.  _

_ Him? Well he is the middle child. No one cares for the middle child. No one except Oliver Wood of course, his best friend. Someone he’d met one summer long ago, and who he kept meeting. Someone who, once they’d learnt how to write, he’d started sending owls with letters filled with nonsense to. A person in which Marcus had invented a secret language that only they knew, which was way better than French, or Latin, or any other bullshit his parents wanted him to learn.  _

_ Best of all, Oliver Wood loves Quidditch. Just as much as Marcus. They talk about it for hours on end, both dreaming of one day going pro. Oliver has a room filled with Quidditch posters, mainly from Puddlemere United, and a broom that he got from his parents on his birthday. Sometimes he’d come knocking during the afternoon, wondering if Marcus would like to join him for a fly before supper. Today was one of those days.  _

_ “I can fly higher than you.” Oliver liked to challenge, kicking off the ground. _

_ “Oh yeah?” Marcus would quickly be on his own broom, a gift from his uncle. Soon he’d be in the air as well, the wind a pleasant chill from the warm weather.  _

_ They’d be soaring through the sky without any care in the world, for when you’re a kid, your life is often problem free when you live an ordinary life. Marcus and Oliver’s lives aren’t ordinary persay, they are both wizards, but apart from that .  _

_ The two young wizards love flying together. It’s a great reminder that they’re alive. Great practice for the future. They’re so young, so naive, without a clue as to what life will have in store for them. They’re happy. In fact, spending time with Oliver is the only time Marcus really feels happy. There’s no pressure to be some perfect son, no being compared to his siblings, or feeling less than. Marcus can’t imagine ever giving that feeling up. _

  
  


_ Detention 2, 20:00, Trophy Room _

They spend their second detention finishing off what they hadn’t managed to polish on their first one. Filch too made another appearance as the detention supervisor, as did Mrs. Norris, who if anything, seemed to enjoy the whole ordeal the least. Marcus had continued ignoring Oliver throughout the day. After their last detention Oliver had been more persistent than ever to get Marcus to talk to him  _ (that stubborn prick) _ , but Marcus really didn’t get the title, ‘difficult’ for nothing and had stood his ground. His  _ whatever _ with Oliver was finished. It had to be. So he did something that had by now become familiar. He ignored, he focused, he disappeared…

  
  


_ The Hogwarts Express is moving, and Marcus is trailing after Oliver as they try to find an empty compartment. Eventually they settle on one with another boy in it, unable to find somewhere else to sit.  _

_ “Can we sit here? Everywhere else is full.” Oliver says, his ass halfway on a seat opposite the other guy as he asks.  _

_ “Sure,” the boy says, smiling nervously. “Are you guys first years too?”  _

_ “Yeah. I’m Oliver, and this is Marcus.” Oliver gestures to Marcus, who’s by now sat down next to him, who quite on brand only grunts as a response.  _

_ “Pleasure. I’m Percy Weasley.” Of course, Marcus thinks. The hair should’ve tipped him off. Percy smiles awkwardly at the two, as if he’s already regretting agreeing to them sitting there.  _

_ “V qbag yvxr uvz: I don't like him’ Marcus says, ignoring the puzzled expression on Weasley’s face. It’s not often that Marcus and Oliver use their secret language they made up in their youth anymore, but for occasions like these, it’s perfect.  _

_ “Tvir uvz n punpr: Give him a chance.’ Oliver hisses, smiling at the ginger lad, as he shoves Marcus’ side. “Naq orunir: And behave.’ _

_ As much as Marcus would like to pretend that he acted civil throughout the trip to Hogwarts, he has enough sense to admit that he could’ve probably acted more accordingly. Whilst Oliver was chatting away with Percy Weasley, Marcus sat staring out the window throughout most of the trip, only giving short and direct answers to whatever questions were posed upon him. Finally being released from the suffering as the train pulled into the station at Hogsmeade was a blessing sent from above.  _

_ Marcus followed the voice that called for the first years to follow him, along with Oliver, Percy, and the other eleven year olds who all looked terrified. Only Marcus seemed to feel indifferent about the whole ordeal. The entire trip up to the castle felt like a blur, flashes of moments. Sitting on the boat, Oliver smiling at him like he couldn’t quite believe it. Marcus not being able to help the smile he gave back. Getting inside from the cold, being met by Professor McGonagall, who with a stern face told them what was to proceed. In actuality, looking back, the entire sorting experience was quite a blur. _

Marcus felt like he was losing the memory. No Flint, think! What happened once you reached the castle. Cold… McGonagall. Coming inside and getting the hat placed on their heads. Percy and Oliver being the only Gryffindors. Marcus, as suspected, being sorted into Slytherin. Why is that night such a blur?

_ The next day at breakfast, Marcus waited for Oliver by the entrance of the great hall. Soon enough Oliver came down, Percy next to him. As soon as Percy saw Marcus he whispered something to Oliver, and quickly vanished. Oliver though, beamed at his best friend.  _

_ “So you survived your first night at Hogwarts, congrats!” Marcus teased.  _

_ “Piss off Marcus.” Oliver retorted back with no malice.  _

_ “Enjoy the slumber party with Weasley?” _

_ “Yes actually. He doesn’t snore like you.” _

_ “I don’t snore!” Marcus said defensively. _

_ “That’s what you think.” Oliver snickered.  _

_ “So. Breakfast. See you after then, before class?” _

_ “I can’t believe we can’t sit together because we didn’t get in the same house. It properly sucks!” _

_ “What do you suggest? I sit with you?” _

_ “Yes.” Oliver said before he could think, and although Marcus was only eleven, it made perfect sense to him that Oliver be placed in Gryffindor. Something it would take Oliver himself a way longer time to realise.  _

_ “You can’t be serious?” _

_ “Dead serious. What’re they gonna do about it? It’s only a table.” and, yeah, it was hard to argue with that logic. So Marcus agreed, and followed Oliver into the great hall.  _

  
  


_ Detention 3, 20:00, McGonagall’s Office _

The third day of detention, Marcus and Oliver were forced to write lines. Over and over again.  _ ‘I must not start fights’, ‘I must not start fights’, _ and so on and so forth. Marcus was extremely bored. He spends his days ignoring the life out of Oliver, and for the most part he manages rather well thanks to them being in separate houses. Then detention strikes and it is an impossible task, because as much as Oliver is concentrating on his work, he is also dedicating every free moment to glaring at Marcus. The chaser is refusing to reciprocate. He is not looking, not feeling, he is focused. Really focused…

  
  


_ Marcus Flint has two left feet. At least that’s what it feels like sneaking out of the castle after hours. The hardest task for him was probably leaving the dorm without waking anyone up. Terence is a light sleeper and wakes at nearly everything. Today was certainly no different. If Marcus hadn’t signaled a knife slice to the throat he was sure the guy would rat him out. He creeps out of the dorm room satisfied.  _

_ The common room is empty, thank merlin. Most of the first and second years had learned not to fuck with Marcus by now, but the upperclassment weren’t afraid of a twelve year old with an attitude when they knew they could hex his ass out of existence if he got cocky. He found himself longing for a day when he struck fear in every Hogwarts student on sight, then they’d leave him be and that was all Marcus really wanted. To be left alone.  _

_ The corridors are surprisingly empty, and Marcus is grateful for that. Sure, he might escape a detention from Snape, but every other teacher was a sure way for punishment. Not that he minded all that much most days, but today he had somewhere to be, and he could not get caught before reaching the pit. Oliver and him had made the Quidditch teams, and they were gonna celebrate.  _

_ He walked down the familiar path to the pitch, where he’d spent most of his first year ogling at the Quidditch teams as they played, Oliver next to him doing the same, until someone barked at them to piss off. It’s a chilly night, but Marcus doesn't mind, he is used to a chill from the dungeons.  _

_ The pitch is empty when Marcus gets there, and he quickly wonders if Oliver got caught sneaking out. His worries quickly eases as a figure starts appearing from a distance. He recognises Oliver’s eagerness.  _

_ “You managed to sneak out then Wood.” It was said more as a statement than a question. _

_ “Wood?” Oliver looked puzzled. _

_ “Yeah, we’re on the Quidditch teams now, I couldn’t bloody well call you Ollie on the pitch, could I?”  _

_ Oliver’s nose twitched. “I guess you’re right, Flint.”  _

_ The two boys snicker, Oliver lightly shoving Marcus. _

_ “You’re so daft sometimes. Did you know?” Oliver inquired as if it was a debatable statement. “Next thing you’ll tell me to not sit with you during dinner.”  _

_ “You know I’d never do that.” _

_ “Do I?” This time it was Marcus' turn to shove Oliver, and the two best friends laughed again. _

_ Before long they were up in the air, commemorating the real reason they’d actually come out there in the first place. _

_ “I can fly faster than you.” Oliver challenges, just like he would do when they were kids, and Marcus immediately takes the bait. They fly by the goal hoops, doing laps around the pitch until they’re dizzy, but sizing on the other. In the end they call a draw and fall to the grass.  _

_ “You’ve gotten faster,” Oliver remarks. _

_ “You’re just as slow.” Marcus throws some grass Oliver’s way, and the keeper reacts by hitting his arm. “I’m just kidding. Your speed is impressive too… for a keeper.” Marcus adds, earning another smack from Oliver which Marcus easily laughs off.  _

_ “Quidditch teams huh? Who would’ve thought?” _

_ “You, I hope, considering all the planning you’ve done for it. Don’t think I haven’t seen your dream board Oliver.” _

_ “It’s not a dream board,” Oliver defends, “I just like to map out my goals. Gives me a clear path for the future.” _

_ “So essentially a dream board?” _

_ “Piss off.” Marcus snickers back.  _

_ They sit comfortably in each other's silence for a while before Oliver suddenly exclaims. “Fuck.” _

_ “What?” Marcus sits up straight from his previous slouch.  _

_ “I just realised I have a charms homework due tomorrow I haven’t finished yet.” _

_ “Wait a second.” Marcus bemuses teasingly, “What’s this I hear? Oliver Wood hasn’t done his homework yet? Scandalous! What would Weasley say?” he makes sure to make a show of his words to really tease Oliver.  _

_ “It’s not funny,” Oliver tries, unable to keep the smile from forming on his face. “Like you’ve done it.” he defends.  _

_ “No.” Marcus says simply. “But no one expects me to.” _

_ “Touché you fuck.” And they laugh. Hard. For no reason whatsoever. For the first time that evening Marcus seizes the opportunity to really take Oliver in. He’s beautiful when he laughs. A thought which sends a shiver through Marcus, because he shouldn’t think like that when looking at his best friend, but holy shit, he can’t help it. Oliver is so goddamned… Marcus does not finish that thought.  _

_ “Marcus,” Oliver lightly touches his arm to draw Marcus from his mind, and his arm goes all warm, his insides fluttering. What the hell is happening to him? “Are you ok?” _

_ There’s a part of Marcus that wants to tell Oliver ‘no’, because what he’s feeling is foreign and strange and it makes him feel strange, but the sensible part of him knows better than to say anything, so he settles on a simple, “Yeah.” to calm his best friend's nerves. “Sorry, I just disappeared for a moment.” Oliver has the audacity to smile at him. The boy is practically beaming, and Marcus’ insides are screaming.  _

_ “Just don’t get stuck, ok? That’s the real danger, getting stuck in a place that is not real.” And maybe that’s when Marcus’ kind of had an impulse where he wanted to kiss Oliver. He’s twelve, and he’s just figuring himself out. His intent is pure. His common sense steps in, recognising that he can’t just kiss Oliver all impromptu when he knew Oliver didn’t feel the same way. Maybe somewhere there it became apparent that this was something he couldn’t tell Oliver, not ever. And maybe along those lines, he internally lost his best friend. Because what sort of person could not tell his best friend something like this?  _

  
  


_ Detention 4, 20:00, Abandoned Corridor  _

Oliver and Marcus are scrubbing floors, and holy shit, they were running out of detention assignments for the pair. Filch was only half observing them now, reappearing every now and then into the abandoned corridor to check that the two Qudditch captains were doing their job before leaving.

Earlier that day he’d met Weasley in the library for a tutoring session, and he’d been sure the other boy would ask him about why he was ignoring Oliver so ferociously, but he didn’t. He just kept that look on his face that meant he was utterly disappointed, and kept to the school work. 

  
  


_ At thirteen 3 things were certain for Marcus Flint. _

  * _There was nothing he loved more in the world than Quidditch._


  * He was never going to give his parents grandchildren.


  * The second thing was mainly due to the fact that he was into his best friend.



  
  


_ Detention 5, 20:00, McGonagall's Office _

__

Lines, again. 

  
  


_ Puberty is one of the worst things that ever happened to Marcus Flint. A time to grow into his teeth, have his voice awkwardly change octave at the worst possible times, and so many fucking hormones, holy shit. Definitely the worst time in a teenagers life. Even worse when one has just recently discovered one's sexuality, and now have to hobble through life praying his pants won’t tent. Which they did anyways, because apparently puberty gets turned on by banana peels. It’s enough for someone to just gently brush by him, and his body reacts. Yeah… he hates it.  _

_ Especially when Oliver insists on being so damn irresistible. Has the audacity to walk around looking so freaking cute every single day no matter what state he’s in, drenched in sweat, fresh out of the shower, bed head, it does not matter. Oliver looks good, and Marcus is pissed about it because it doesn’t make anything easier for him. Sometimes he has the urge to grab him and scream for him to “STOP BEING SO ADORABLE!!” But there’s no heterosexual explanation for such behavior, so he withstands.  _

_ Marcus' first kiss happened during a game of truth or dare. Another terrible puberty incident for him. They’d snuck in some girls into the boys dormitory to play. ‘They’ referring to everyone except Marcus, who was adamant on not taking any part in it. As usual he had no say in what happened to him, and he found himself squeezed in between Gemma Farley and Flora Carrow, who both were grinning at him stupidly.  _

_ There was a great mix of people in their fourth year dorm, some fifth years, a couple third years, even some second years who’d managed to sneak their way in. The room seemed smaller because of it. Pucey had cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention, announcing he’d start, and Bole had argued, because “why should you get to start dipshit?” And Higgs had hit him on the back of his skull gesturing for Pucey to proceed.  _

_ “Flint,” the shit eating grin on his face said it all, whatever he chose would be hell. “Truth or dare?”  _

_ He took his sweet time thinking this through. A truth could really expose him in the worst way possible, a dare on the other hand, although embarrassing would be easier to recover from. “Dare?” Why did it have to sound like a question? _

_ “Oh?” Adrian arched an eyebrow, a glint in his eye. Like he’d been hoping for this. “I dare you to kiss Gemma.” The blush that spread on Gemma’s face was impossible to miss. She looked like a tomato, and his face wasn’t much better.  _

_ All around the circle people were whispering, some girls giggled among themselves.  _

_ “No way man. I can’t just kiss someone.” _

_ “That’s the game man. Besides, Gemma doesn’t mind, do you Gem?” She got even redder, as if that was even possible, her eyes locked on the ground as she shook her head.  _

_ “Cmon Flint, don’t be such a spoilsport.” Higgs interjected, his entrance to the conversation not welcomed. Marcus considered running away, but how would that look? Everyone was already staring at him, he should just do it and get it over with.  _

_ It was a quick kiss. And before anyone could react he was out the door. If anyone brought this up again they’d face his wrath. He knew he shouldn’t be out of the common room after hours, but he didn’t care. He made his way down to the pitch with certain ease, and threw himself on the ground burying his face in the crook of his arm. If he wasn’t afraid to attract unwanted attention he’d probably scream.  _

_ It felt like he’d cheated on someone even though he most certainly hadn’t, because he wasn’t in a relationship. The one person he’d want to be in a relationship with saw him as nothing more than a friend, and now every single Slytherin, including the ones who weren’t in the room because people were really good at gossiping, would taunt him for the Gemma thing. Maybe it was a bit dickish to leave her there alone to be the sole receiver of the taunting, but Marcus was a selfish prick and it was truly every man for themself in these kinds of situations. _

_ As he made his way back to castle later, he was caught out of bed by Professor Flitwick, who had house points redacted and granted Marcus a detention in the forbidden Forest before sending him straight to bed. Marcus obeyed without arguing. When he got back his dorm was empty, people asleep. He didn’t bother being quiet as he got ready for bed. Only Higgs woke, but when he saw who’d disturbed he went back to bed. He knew now was not the time.  _

_ The next morning the news of his and Gemma’s little lip lock had started spreading among Slytherin’s old and young alike. He hadn’t actually seen her since the cursed event, but people loved to prophecies their quote on quote “blossoming romance.” Felicity Blishwick, one of Gemma’s best friends, gossiped loudly among other fourth years, going completely silent as they saw Marcus approach before throwing a laughing fit. _

_ “What’s that all about?” Oliver remarked as Marcus sat by the Gryffindor table. He just shrugged pretending like he had no clue. He’d eventually tell Oliver about the evening, and Oliver would laugh because, yeah, Marcus' first kiss was a disaster. A hilarious disaster. For now though, Marcus put marmalade on his toast as he instead tried to steer the conversation somewhere else. Oliver really didn’t need to know yet.  _

  
  


_ Detention 6, 13:00, The Dungeons  _

Sorting the potions ingredients during a Saturday afternoon was probably the worst punishment they’d had to withstand so far. 

  
  


_ Marcus and Oliver have a tendency to spend their summers together. By now the Flint family doesn’t visit their estate over the holiday, but Marcus goes alone to stay with Oliver and his family towards the end of summer, and has done so the past two years. The heat is sweltering, and he’s laying on Oliver’s bed when a loud screech can be heard downstairs. Before he can get up and investigate the door swings open and he’s tackled by someone throwing themselves on top of him.  _

_ “You won’t believe it!” An excited Oliver says, panting from the running.  _

_ “What’s up Olls?” Marcus' breath hitched as he spoke.  _

_ “Hogwarts letter arrived today. Guess what came with it?” Marcus did not need to guess.  _

_ “No fucking way.” He shook Oliver off himself, and took the envelope from his hand, shaking the badge out. “Holy shit!” He observed the Captains badge with care, before carefully placing it inside the envelope again.  _

_ “This is unbelievable.” _

_ “Is it though? You’ve been planning this since forever. We both knew you’d make Captain after Charlie left.” Oliver didn’t say anything as a response, just stared down at his badge inside the envelope. Too afraid to touch in case it might break. _

_ “By the way, your letter came too. Fingers crossed, right?”  _

_ “I’ll be right back.” He ran down the stairs fetching his letter from the kitchen table, greeting Mr. and Mrs. Wood while he was on it, who both smiled knowingly at him. He ran back upstairs and jumped onto the bed again. Once sitting down he found that he couldn’t quite bring himself to open it. Sure, a part of him knew deep down he’d be assigned Captain, obviously, who else? But another part of him feared the worst. What if it wasn’t him? _

_ “Go on then, open it.” _

_ “Too nervous. You do it.” Oliver ripped it from his hands and tore it open with a swift motion, shaking the insides out on the bed spread. AHogwarts letter tumbled out welcoming Marcus back to a new term, as did the obligatory supply list and then… “YES!” Oliver cried. Marcus could only stare in disbelief. Was this real? “I knew it! We’re both Captains now, you know what that means right?” _

_ “We’re even bigger rivals than before?” Marcus tried to joke, but it came out half-assed, not having quite recovered yet.  _

_ “I mean, yeah. But also, one step closer to playing in the pros. They don’t pick just anyone. They pick the best!”  _

_ Marcus threw his arms around Oliver before he could help himself, hugging him hard. Oliver reciprocated. Physical touch with Oliver always sent sparks through him, but he chose to ignore it, not letting it ruin this moment. “I fucking love you man!” He said without thinking. He’d never actually said it before, even though he’d known for a long time that he did. Not only romantically, but as a friend. Oliver was the best thing in his life, and there was no one he’d rather share this with. He loved him, he was more family than anyone. He was glad to have had it said. It needed to be clarified at least once.  _

_ “You too!” Relief. Marcus could practically feel Oliver beaming.  _

_ When they pulled away; he noticed how closely they sat, he could practically feel Oliver’s breath on his face. He quickly pulled away, feeling how the heat in his cheeks arose, not failing to notice the visible blush on Oliver’s face that had also appeared.  _

_ “We fucking did it.” Oliver whispered.  _

_ “Yeah.”  _

_ “I should probably go down and talk to my parents. I think they know, but as soon as I opened the letter and saw the badge I just bolted upstairs to tell you.” His blush increased.  _

_ “That’s probably a good idea.” Marcus laughed, following Oliver down to the kitchen where their news was greeted with excitement and hugs. Marcus was so damn happy.  _

  
  


_ Detention 7, 20:00, The Forbidden Forest  _

_ Every wedding Marcus has ever been to has been the exact same. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s like every pureblood wedding follows the same format. As if the wedding planner comes in, ask for your blood status, and as soon as you proclaim your blood pure, they go “say no more” and a wedding is designed.  _

_ It’s one of his cousins' wedding, marrying someone who’s probably close to being her cousin. Marcus is sitting on his chair by the assigned table for them, Oliver by his side. He brought him as a plus one, which had raised some eyebrows, but gone unquestioned by his parents. They were fine with Oliver. He was a pureblood after all, well mannered, always extremely nice to them. His mother in particular was very fond of Oliver. (“He’s grown into quite the young man.” Marcus had to gag, but of course he agreed.)  _

_ “Don’t you want to dance?” _

_ “Ollie, not even if you pay me.”  _

_ “Why do you keep coming to these things if you won’t even engage?” _

_ “As if I have a choice.” Marcus huffed. “I think they believe I’ll get inspired for my own wedding. As if there’s anything to be inspired by here. It’s all the bloody same.”  _

_ “When I get married I’m gonna do something personal.” Marcus choked on his spit. Oliver and him never really talked about their love lives. Or lack thereof. It just wasn’t really their thing. But hearing Oliver talk about the prospect of him some day getting married, well it threw him off.  _

_ “What a fancy way to say Quidditch themed.” Oliver playfully hit Marcus' arm. “Besides, who’s gonna wanna marry you Wood?”  _ **_Me_ ** _ , he thought before burying it deep.  _

_ “Hey! I’m a catch.” Oliver defended.  _

_ “The missed ‘I’m a keeper’ joke opportunity physically pains me.” _

_ “Ah man, no, let me do it again.”  _

_ “No way,” Marcus laughed. “Moment gone.” _

_ “Damn it.” Oliver wore a soft smile, one that had Marcus melting in his seat. “What about you?” _

_ “Huh?” _

_ “What’s your wedding gonna be like?” _

_ “I’m not playing.” _

_ “C’mon mate. Just hypothetically. What’s your dream wedding?” _

_ “Must I?” Marcus whined, but one look from Wood told him that, yes, he must. “Ok, fine I’ll play.” _

_ “That’s more like it. Now we’re really getting in the festive spirit!” Marcus held back the urge to roll his eyes.  _

_ He thought about the question posed. How honest should he be? It’s not like he could tell Oliver that his dream wedding was whatever Oliver wanted, because they were obviously getting married, and Marcus' dream was to make Oliver happy. Instead of unraveling all of that, he settled on: “Whatever my partner wants. I just wanna make them happy.” He made sure to use gender neutral pronouns, and in a way it felt like Oliver caught onto that, but didn’t say anything. “I know what you’re thinking. Ah shit, who would’ve guessed. Marcus Flint has a heart.” _

_ “That’s not what I think at all. I know you do.” _

Their last detention was spent in the Forbidden forest. Sunday evening spent with Hagrid. Even worse, they’d been split up from him. Hagrid had taken Fang, and left the two boys to walk the other direction. Marcus wasn’t sure it was ok during this time, considering Sirius Black was lurking, and there was a literal fleet of dementors around. Apparently that carries little weight in this situation, and they walked on in silence, Marcus slightly ahead, Oliver trailing after.

“Marcus, we need to talk.” The Keeper had caught up with him so they were walking side by side now. As if he’d previously planned what he was going to say and now finally had mustered up the courage. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Marcus was surprised to find himself answering after giving Oliver the cold shoulder for so long. He blamed it on the cold. Conversing with Wood was the best way to distract him from the fact that he no longer could feel his hands. 

“Of course there is. You’ve been ignoring me for an entire week. What’s going on?” Oliver stopped walking, grabbing Marcus' arm to stop him as well. He missed touching Wood. Being touched by Wood. “C’mon, talk to me. You’re my best mate.” And that damn look was so not fair, because Marcus got all weak seeing it, and he needed his consciousness right now. 

“I am not your best mate.” He defensively bit back, as if that would do anything. “Now fucking let me go.” He shook himself free and kept walking. 

“Marcus, wait up!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4!!! Second to last chapter, who would've thought?  
> Thank you so much to everyone who's supported this story, I really appreciate the love!   
> Will this story be finished before 2021??? Let's hope so! I guess only time will tell.   
> Until then, stay safe and have a good one,  
> // duchessio


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cheesy, cheesy, cheesy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to my BETA's @generaltomatoheart & @scooby-dumb (on Tumblr) <3 <3 <3

_ “I am not your best mate.” He defensively bit back, as if that would do anything. “Now fucking let me go.” He shook himself free and kept walking.  _

_ “Marcus, wait up!”  _

“What!?” Marcus was fuming by now. Why couldn’t Oliver understand that he wanted to be left alone? Wasn’t it enough that he was forced to spend his Sunday evening at detention in the forbidden forest? Did Oliver  _ have _ to be difficult on top of that? 

“For fucks sake, Flint. Would you stop being a cunt for five seconds and talk to me? Talk to your best friend, since  _ for fucking ever _ , instead of walking away like a little bitch? Could you do that? Could you?” Oliver shoved Marcus from behind, which did nothing to sooth Marcus’ nerves seeing as shoving was one of the reasons he was in detention right now instead of under a warm blanket in the dungeons. He wanted nothing more than his bed at the moment. He had to tell himself to stop thinking about his bed, because his bed was just another somber reminder that he was freezing his butt off out in the cold, dementors swarming the premises. 

Marcus decided enough was enough and snapped. “We’re not best friends anymore, why can’t you see that?!” He yelled out in frustration. “Everyone knows it! You ask anyone in the castle and they’ll tell you: Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint  _ HATE  _ each other. They can’t stand the sight of the other, and that’s exactly how it should be. The balance of the school is restored.”

“No one fucking says that. People aren’t stupid. You, on the other hand, are an idiot. Has anyone ever told you that? Oh right, me. About a hundred and forty three times.” Oliver took a pause to let Marcus take it in. “Do you even hear yourself? We’ve known each other for what, twelve years? And all of a sudden, out of nowhere might I add, you claim that we’re not best friends anymore? Huh? Is that it? The last twelve years have meant nothing? It’s all been some practical joke? A big fucking lie!?”

“That’s not what I’m saying-“ Marcus tried to defend, but Oliver immediately cut him off. 

“Oh, but it is!” He clapped back. “You’re saying that we’re not friends anymore.  _ Anymore _ . What does that even mean? Was there a time when you did consider me a friend? If so, what time? When did it stop? And why did you not think to tell  _ me  _ about it?” Oliver said the last part with tears in his eyes, and Marcus too felt all the anger in him simmer away at the sight. Oliver in this state was apparently enough to make a grown man cry. He hated the power Wood had over him, but he couldn’t help it when tears prickled in his own eyes. And suddenly he remembered why the night of the sorting had been such a blur. 

When Oliver and him hadn’t ended up in the same house, Marcus had put on a great facade about how cool it was. In reality, he’d spent the evening in his bed crying his eyes out, because he’d been so sure about coming to Hogwarts, knowing he’d be having Oliver with him. When they didn’t end up in the same house, it dawned on him that he didn’t anymore. Oliver had found Percy so quickly, but who did he have? He’d closed his blinds and had quietly sobbed into his pillow, hoping no one could hear him. No one had commented on it the next morning, so Marcus was pretty sure he’d gotten away with it. Crying on his first night wasn’t something he was proud of, and he couldn’t remember crying ever since… until now. 

They both stood there, sobbing, exhausted, just looking at the other. It was Oliver who made the first move to wrap his arms around Marcus in a hug that in that moment felt never ending. Especially since Marcus never wanted it to, or had any plans to let it. Instead they stood there in silence. The body contact warmed them from the cold, face buried in the other's shoulder, both now wet from tear stains. 

“I love you.” Marcus whispered. 

“I love you too you doofus.” Oliver responded back, almost like a reflex. They’d only ever said it that one time after making Captains, or when they were drunk which didn’t count. Hearing it float off of Oliver’s tongue so easily made him want to cry some more, but he really had a reputation to uphold, and crying for the first time since he was eleven, was already bad enough. Him continuously doing so felt redundant. 

“No, you don’t understand.” It was now that Marcus broke free from the hug. Not entirely, but enough for him to now be face to face with Oliver, whilst still holding onto his arms. The tear stains on his shoulder went cold once the wind finally got a chance to attack it, but Marcus paid it little attention. What he was about to say next could definitely turn more uncomfortable than a couple of tear stains. 

“When I say I love you, I don’t mean it in an “I love you as a friend” kind of way. I mean it as an “I love you passionately” in a lover kind of way. And I have for many years now. Ever since that midnight fly we took when we both made the quidditch teams. It was then that I knew that we were no longer best friends, because I could not stand the idea of being in love with my best mate. It just felt morally wrong to not tell you such a personal and intimate detail of myself, so inside my head I decided that I no longer had a best friend. That the only real best friend I ever had was a young boy named Oliver Wood, and that one day he disappeared from my life, and I never knew what happened to him. In his place I’d filled the hole of a missing friend with the love I felt for this new guy in my life, who just happened to be named Oliver Wood as well. But standing here, right here right now. It’s like I’ve finally found my best friend again. He was here all along; hiding behind the shadows. Lurking for the right time to come out. And I guess now, was that time.”

“You’re an idiot.” Was all Oliver could get out. He was shaking his head in disbelief. “You know that? A stupid fucking twat!” He said before pulling Marcus in for a kiss. Although shocked, Marcus quickly adapted to the situation and started kissing back. His hand ran along Oliver’s back, whilst Oliver had an arm around Marcus’s neck that he used to deepen the kiss further. It felt like he was trying to eat Marcus up, but Marcus didn’t really mind all that much. If this was to be the end of his life, he didn’t really care. For after such a long time, waiting, wanting, craving; he was finally getting exactly what he wanted, and that was quite a powerful feeling. Something he was unwilling to give up anytime soon.

Of course his brain decided to be a massive dick about it though, and he had to pull away. As their lips parted, Oliver whined. “Ollie, we can’t.” What the fuck was he doing? 

“Why not? Why can’t we?” 

“Because…” 

“Because?” Oliver was rightfully annoyed. 

“Because you deserve better Ollie. Because... because you’ll wise up someday and realise what a horrible human being I am. You know why I ignored you? Because I broke you.”

“I’m not a glass figure Flint.” Oliver argued. 

“Are you even listening to me? I almost wrecked everything after a simple dispute. Is that really who you want to be with? 

“Flint-”

“I’m telling ya. You’ll find someone better. You deserve better-”

“How dare you speak about my best friend like that?” Oliver interrupted, “Even worse, how fucking dare you feel so entitled, as to claim to know what is deemed most fit for me? Who gave you the right to voice the slightest ounce of opinion about my decision to love you? It is not within your right to determine if I find you fit or not. The only way you can waver my opinion is in your behaviour, and even then it is borderline insulting considering you’ve given me one hell of a week of doubt and wonder, and guess what? I’m still fucking here. I still want you. Don’t you think by now, I already know what kind of person you are? You think I don’t know my best friend? So I ask you again.  _ How dare you?”  _ Marcus was left stunned. 

Before he could help himself he asked: “How long?”

“Really? That’s what you’re gonna ask?” Marcus just shrugged. “Since forever dumbass.” Oliver rolled his eyes. “Remember when you told me about kissing Gemma?” Marcus just nodded. “Well, I got really jealous. At first I thought I was jealous of you for kissing Gemma, but I quickly realised that I was more jealous of her getting to kiss you.”

“That’s... really fucking cheesy Wood.” This earned Marcus a laugh.

“Says the guy who just pulled a love declaration out of his arse. How long have you been sitting on that one? Did you rehearse in the mirror earlier?”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” Marcus rolled his eyes fondly, allowing Oliver to pull him in for a lasting kiss. Marcus was still going to be an insecure and jealous arse who’d always believe Oliver deserved better. He still felt massively guilty for his behaviour throughout the week, but right now he was trying not to think about that. He told his brain to fuck right off and put his focus on eating Oliver’s face. He figured as long as the keeper would let him, he should cease the opportunity. 

“I’m still pissed at you for ignoring me for a week.”

“Does it help that I thought of you the entire time?” 

“Hmm.” Oliver made an exaggerated face as if to show that he was really thinking about it. “It doesn’t  _ not _ help.”

“I feel kind of stupid for not realising sooner.”

“No one has accused you of being observant. You’re so oblivious my guy.”

“Me?” What about you?” Marcus accused. “I’ve been practically swooning over you for years. I swear, half the castle knows.”

“You got a point there. Percy definitely knows, he always had this look on his face whenever I mentioned your name. A mixture of fright and knowledge of something I didn’t.”

“Hmm, yeah. Pucey and Higgs know as well. By the way, they will never shut up about this. I’m not looking forward to telling them they were right.”

“What if we just didn't?” Oliver suggested. “I mean, must we?”

“No.” Marcus said, considering the suggestion. “But then I can’t annoy everyone in my presence by snogging you, and I don't know, I feel like that’s a missed opportunity.” Oliver blushed. 

“That’s definitely a pro.” Oliver snaked his arms around Marcus’ neck, “Plus, we’re a damn power couple Flint. You do realise that, right?” Oliver added.

“Calm down Wood, we’ve kissed like twice. I’d hardly go as far as calling us a ‘power couple’” Oliver laughed, Marcus didn’t get something that was obvious to him.

“Don’t you get it? We don’t need to be snogging to be a power couple. We’ve been attached to the hip since we first came to Hogwarts. We’re a package deal. You can’t have Marcus Flint without Oliver Wood, and the other way around. Power couple, I’m telling you.” 

“You know what's funny?”

“What?”

“We’re in the forbidden forest during a detention, and we should really get back because it’s late and I’m freezing, and a dementor could attack at any given moment. And sure, logically we should get the hell out of here, but before that I might just want to kiss you again to make sure I’m not dreaming, because this is just not real.” 

“I can assure you that you’re not dreaming. If you were, we’d be somewhere nicer.”

“Don’t underestimate how fucked up my dreams can be, Wood.” Oliver just laughed, and kissed Marcus a final time before pulling him with him as they made their way to find Hagrid. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINAL CHAPTER!!! ONLY EPILOGUE LEFT!!! Will she finish before 2021??? We'll see.
> 
> Until then, have a good one and stay safe   
> // Duchessio


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to my lovely BETA's @generaltomatoheart & @scooby-dumb (on Tumblr) <3 <3 <3

It’s an early summer evening. The weather is surprisingly cold for a day in June, but it is still light outside, so the summer feeling remains. The sun can truly be stubborn like that sometimes. Another Hogwarts school year has come to a close, much to everyone's delight and dismay. Exams are (finally) finishing up, a Qudditch finale has been played, Gryffindor taking home the win, and a young Harry Potter has finished off yet another adventure he can add to his list of traumatic childhood memories. 

Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood are enjoying the  _ now _ . Soon enough they’ll be Hogwarts graduates, off playing Quidditch professionally for Puddlemere United and the Montrose Magpies respectively. Right now though, they’re sitting on the pitch that has been  _ their spot _ , their _ holier than thou _ , taking in the moment they can practically feel slipping out of their grips. 

They’re laying in the grass, trying to make sense of the sky. Marcus has always lacked imagination when it came to cloud gazing. (“Congrats, it looks like a fucking cloud. That’s what it is, isn't it?”) The silence is comfortable, warm. Marcus can feel Oliver at his side. Can hear his steady breathing. So close, yet gone in his own head. Probably convinced that the cloud over there looks like a quaffle. He wants to reach over and grab the others hand, but he doesn’t. He knows he can, but he refrains. Instead, he sits up and takes a loud breath to catch the others attention. 

“Ollie, can I tell you something I haven’t really told anyone?” 

It takes a moment until Oliver responds. “Always.” His boyfriend yawned without a greater ambition to move. The chaser knew he had his full attention. 

“I’m kind of terrified.” Oliver remained still, so Marcus continued. “I think I’ve always been really scared, you know? Insecure.  _ God _ I sound twelve, but what can I do? It’s the truth. When we were eleven for example, I- well, I was terrified of being left behind, and here we are again, and I’m so scared because, because we’re graduating soon, and I’m afraid that I won’t be able to keep up.” The silence was deafening. 

The future had always terrified Marcus because looking back on his childhood, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get through it without ending it in a cell in Azkaban. He’d never agreed with pureblood pureism. Found it rather ridiculous actually, seeing as the majority of wizards were either half-bloods or muggleborns. Yet, people assumed. He never liked when people assumed, because no matter how much they tried they’d never know. He supposed that’s why he was such a bitch. Nothing could frighten him if he was the most frightening thing in the room. No one would know him if he had full control over what they knew. 

Oliver got up slowly, cracking his neck and stretching out his arms in the process. “What makes you think that?” He asked calmly, almost unbothered. As if Marcus hadn’t just unleashed the root to most of his problems. 

“Look at me Ollie.” As on que, the keeper looked directly at him. 

“I am.” He said simply. “Remember in the beginning of the year when we didn’t even know if you were going to graduate at all?”

“You’re really not gonna let me live that one down huh?”

The keeper just ignored his boyfriends whining, it was nothing he wasn’t used to by now. “What did we do about it?”

“Ehm… Weasley tutored me? Look, Ollie, I just don’t think that’s relevant-“

Oliver quickly cut him off. “What’re you doing soon?” 

Marcus thought about it. “Going to bed?”

“Graduating you idiot. You’re graduating! You went from flunking transfiguration to graduating and getting scouted to a professional Quidditch team! Merlin Flint, you’re so daft sometimes. It’s ok to be scared, heck I’m scared too.” 

“Really, you? Babe the only thing you’ve ever cared about is Quidditch.” 

“Well, duh! And what if my playing isn’t up to professional standards?” The look of worry on the keepers face caused Marcus to snort. 

“What?” 

“Wood please, we both know you’re an incredible quidditch player.” Marcus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t feel the need to inflate Oliver’s large ego any further. “You’ll be fine.” 

“Then why wouldn’t you be?” The keeper challenged. 

“My family Ollie, they… well, it’s just different for me, that’s all.” Marcus had a reputation, a family name that left him with little choice. He was branded for life, no matter what he did. He’d always be a goddamn Flint. 

Oliver was having none of it. “Except it’s really not. Marcus, you’re not eleven anymore. No one is leaving you behind, and your last name does not fucking define who you are.  _ You  _ define who you are! The real world, well it’s fucking terrifying. There’s nothing I’d rather do than curl up in my childhood bed and stay there forever in safety from the world of professional Quidditch where people actually give a shit. Hidden away from a world that will judge me because I love you unapologetically, and because I refuse to be what people want me to be. Except-“

“It would be ridiculous.” Marcus finished. 

“Exactly.” 

A pause. “You really mean it?”

“What?

“You love me unapologetically?”

“Really, that’s your take away?” Marcus shrugged. “Yeah, I do. You suck Flint, and I properly love you for it. What can I do? I love garbage.”

“Is that why you’re so adamant on defending your teammates?” Oliver couldn’t help the laughter that escaped his mouth and filled the chill air.

“Coming from the guy who tried to cheat his way to the Quidditch cup, but still lost.” Now it was Marcus' turn to laugh. He couldn’t help it. A few months ago the Malfoy incident being brought up would’ve been a really painful memory of all that he’d lost. Now, it served as a great reminder to everything he’d gained. Slytherin losing the Quidditch cup though, still stung. 

“For what it’s worth. I love you too, you know.”

“I know.” Oliver looked him dead in the eyes, “I’m a keeper.” 

“The goldiest of keepers.” Marcus retorted quickly, catching Oliver off guard. 

“Oh… my… I-” The hysterical laughter the keeper let out sounded like a mix between a hyena and a seal. Frightening. “Fuck, why would you… I just-” No coherent sentence in sight. 

“So what now?” Marcus managed, once the other had calmed down a bit. 

“What now?” Oliver repeated, still trying to catch his breath, “I become the  _ goldiest _ , most  _ famous _ quidditch player in all of Britain, and you become famous for being my loving and oftentimes frightening boyfriend.” Oliver threw some grass on Marcus to imitate the sense of confetti, and the chaser, without a second thought, hit the keeper on the arm. “I’ve always wanted to do that.” Oliver beamed as if his face was about to crack and Marcus finally understood. He made a move to grab Oliver’s hand and the keeper let him. 

“In your dreams. We both know  _ I’ll _ be the most famous Quidditch player.” Marcus retorted.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Marcus let Oliver pull him in for a kiss that he found himself smiling into. The future was an unknown and rather frightening place, but he wasn’t alone. He’d done a lot of things he wasn’t proud of, things that lived up to his stupid last name. Except, he was done living up to it, done with letting it define him. Marcus knew he was better, knew he could  _ be  _ better. Along on that journey he had his own little personal hype man by his side. He didn’t have to fear being alone anymore, because he wasn’t. In fact, he never had been. 

_ He’d be ok.  _

**The End**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it comes to an end. I started working on this fic in 2019, and it feels weird to finally be done. I'm not sure how I feel about the ending tbh, a bit too cheesy for my taste, but I've been reworking it so many times and I finally settled on this before I drove myself mad. It was time. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the support on this story. The response has been absolutely lovely, and way nicer than this story deserves. 
> 
> Until my next fic,   
> Stay safe and have a good one,  
> // Duchessio :)

**Author's Note:**

> Second fic published on ao3, let's go! This fic is finished and is going through a lovely editing phase, so fear not. It will not be left incomplete. I'm not sure when Chapter 1 will be published, but hopefully soon :)  
> Until then, I hope you enjoyed this little prologue.
> 
> Take care and stay safe!  
> // @duchessio


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